Porcelain Doll
by DiamondGamer
Summary: Henry's life had turned upside-down a long time ago, and he had accepted and lived with it. But who was that gorgeous woman that always seemed to know how to make his day? HenryxHeather. AU. Rating will eventually change.
1. Prologue

"Can you get me a cup of water?" A voice suddenly rang, and Henry flinched, snapping out of his thoughts. He turned around to see Murphy, now wide awake and awful-looking, hair unkempt, staring at him expectantly from the other bed. Henry believed his theory to be right - his roommate was indeed hungover and guilty as hell. He rolled his eyes and grabbed a table glass placed on the dresser (He didn't remember buying that one.) and walked in the bathroom.

The brunet stood in front of the mirror and froze, grimacing at the way he looked himself - tired, pale, looking somewhat like a hobo in general. Unlike Murphy, who drowned his guilt in alcohol and parties, he buried himself in work and pretty much stayed up until it was too late for him to go to sleep. Luckily, it was his day off, so he had allowed himself to basically face-desk and remain in that position for a few good hours like always. He always regretted doing this, of course, because of the back pains he ended up receiving.

After washing his face and making sure he is no longer terrified by himself, he filled the glass with tap water and walked back in to see his friend in the very same position. Murphy sat up, grabbed the glass and downed the liquid like it depended on his life. Henry didn't know anything about this guy's life, except that he was usually out most of the time - he had learned that he recently got divorced. He had met the woman only once - she was serious, almost lacking sense of humor; What was her name again? Anna? "Thanks, Hen."

"Do you need anything else?" Henry questioned politely, plopping on his bed after the other shook his head. After seeing Murphy in that state, he sure felt like having some sleep so he doesn't make the wrong impression to people, or even worse - slowly turn into him. Perhaps they would both change, but he didn't know. "If you're planning to stay, wake me up in two hours. I'll need the energy, but I also have work to do."

"I'm not your alarm clock!" The other brunet protested, chuckling softly. He tossed his phone to Henry and got up, looking down at his ugly checkered shirt in dissaproval. "I won't be needing that for today. Set it up, and do make sure to get plenty of sleep. You look like you've been run over by a truck. Have anything I could borrow?" He asked, pointing at the shirt.

"Yeah, grab whatever you'd like from my part of the closet," Henry told him before burying his face in the pillow - he hardly cared about what Murphy borrowed from him, as he usually returned the item; even if he didn't, material items were the least of his worries. He simply shut his eyes and let sleep take over, which happened somewhat quickly. He figured the other was going to work, as he couldn't exactly afford to get wasted two days in a row, which happened only once since he moved in with him.

A soft knock interrupted his sleep.

"I'm coming in!" A voice outside declared, though Henry couldn't hear much - he was busy rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn as he got up and walked over to the door - a young, strawberry blonde woman overtook him, already standing by and holding the door wide open. He was somewhat relieved and happy to see her, as she was often busy with something and never visited - even though he had to wake up from his divine sleep to greet her. "Oh, did I interrupt something?"

"No, not at all!" He quickly replied, flashing a smile. "How are you, Lisa? Erm, are you up for a cup of coffee?"

Her usual smile was replaced by a frown, and that worried Henry. He knew that Lisa always greeted people happily, especially when coming over, even if she didn't like them - perhaps something had made her sad? Convinced that she needs to talk to him, he gestured her to come in, so she did, taking a seat on the chair in front of the desk - Henry's usual quiet spot, and simply faced the wall without saying anything. Confused, the brunet proceeded to make some coffee, if not for her, at least for himself.

"You might want to sit down."

Those words were never good. Placing a cup of hot Brazilian coffee on the desk, he comfortably seated himself on the bed, then patiently waited for her to start speaking. It wasn't about her, after all - it was definitely something about him.

"She didn't make it," She muttered with a gulp, not bothering to turn around and face him. It didn't take Henry long for him to understand what Lisa meant - his eyes widened slightly, but he didn't reply. It was his friend, Cynthia, who had gotten in a car crash recently, that 'didn't make it'. In all honesty, he had expected it - the woman was quite frail. "I'm sorry, Henry..."


	2. Chapter 1 - Move On

Everyone expected him to be sobbing, yelling, interrupting people's sleep, be hysterical.

That simply wasn't in his nature. Lisa had offered him a hug, told him he could 'let it out' if he felt like it - all she received was a blank stare, a nod, and silence yet again. He had politely asked her to leave, and she had respected his wishes; And even after that, he stood, almost frozen, in the same position, silently mourning, yet not daring to spill any tears. Frankly, he was used to losing people in his life.

He made his way to, once again, the painfully familiar graveyard, which wasn't empty at that time to leave flowers on her grave. He smiled, seeing as he wasn't the only one to do that - there were relatives and friends nearby, reminiscing, but he didn't bring himself to talk to any of them. Even if he was just as sad as they were, he felt like he couldn't fully share their pain. The meeting didn't go without at least one person approaching him and spilling out everything they did and didn't mean about Cynthia, as if Henry actually felt like listening to them. It was an emotional moment for all of them.

Feeling even more tired and weary, and hoping no one else brings up the topic, Henry headed 'home'. It was most certainly not a good way to start a day, but he couldn't care less - he felt as if he has had worse. Was this a bad thing? He didn't know. As he expected, Murphy wasn't there yet, so he sat down and decided to do nothing for the rest of the day. That was a satisfying action.

...That just didn't work.

He pulled out his phone(Why had Murphy left him his?), and a little hesitantly, he dialed a number and placed it on his ear, startling himself with the familiar beeping. Once they picked up, what would he say? He didn't feel like sharing how empty he felt at the moment, at least not on the phone so a simple invitation to hang out would work well. As soon as he heard the usual 'Hello?' from the other line, he attempted to change the tone of his voice.

"Harry! How are you? Are you busy right now?"

"No, I am not." The person on the other line answered confusedly. "Why?"

"Well, if you'd like, maybe we could go out for a drink?" Henry couldn't believe he would ask such a thing - it was usually someone else that invited him that way, and he always politely declined. This time, however, he _needed_ someone's attention. He cleared his throat as soon as he realized how fake his 'cheerful' voice sounded, and tried to sound as casual as possible. "I'm incredibly bored. No work today."

"Yes. What do you have in mind?" Harry was always short and straightforward, and that's what Henry admired him for - a straight-to-the-point guy, a good listener, and a good friend as well. Perhaps that's what Henry needed at the moment. "I suggest we go to Silent Haven. It's close enough for both of us." He offered, and Henry shuddered at the thought - Silent Haven was a nightclub, and what he actually had in mind was for him to come over.

"Works for me!" Still, he agreed on the suggestion, since Harry would most probably be a little uncomfortable about coming over, and he understood that. Henry had years and years to get to know his childhood friends, and Harry was no exception - he was one of the closest people to him that he could call a friend, even though they barely talked to each-other anymore.

He got up, grabbed his wallet, then proceeded to leave the building. Luckily, he didn't pass by anyone else, since rumors flew by pretty quickly - there would be questions like 'How are you feeling?', 'Are you okay?', pretty much people trying to make small chat just because they feel good about trying to comfort a person who just lost a friend. He didn't exactly need that at the moment.

He stared at his car for a second, mentally noting to wash it later as he sat on the driver's seat. It was a 2000 Pontiac Firebird, a pretty sight, even though Henry had to haggle with the seller for quite awhile. He had planned to give it as a gift to his father and get another one, but Frank quickly realised his intentions and outright declined, claiming he was 'too old for that anyways'.

Henry didn't remember ever having a mom - Frank had explained to him that he had found him outside as a baby during the winter, cold as an icicle, and raised him as his own child. Henry always reminded himself that he had done a good job on that, especially if he was mad at him for some reason. He hated holding any kind of grudges, even if people deserved the hate - he was a forgiving person in general.

He drove off.

Just like he had expected, Harry was there before him, standing outside, somewhat impatiently looking over at his wristwatch before spotting Henry. The brunet walked over to him and shook his hand, as if they were meeting for the first time. It was getting fairly windy and somewhat cold, and Harry frowned slightly at the other's face - it wasn't nearly as pale as when he had looked at himself in the mirror, it was worse. He opened his mouth to speak, but didn't bring himself to, and instead gestured him to come inside.

It smelled of cigarettes inside, and Henry covered his mouth, trying to stifle a cough. There weren't many people at the moment, so the two of them made their way to the counter and made their orders. The bartender, a fairly young blonde, brought them the drinks and proceeded to finish her conversation with another male, which was probably her boyfriend, assuming the way she talked to him.

"How are you?" Henry asked the extremely familiar question, flashing yet another half-hearted smile. That's how all of the conversations started, right? Besides, he couldn't start talking about what happened right away. It would be rude.

"I don't think it's going to be about me." The other replied, raising a brow. "It's about you. How are _you_, Henry?"

Henry frowned, knowing he had, indeed, heard of what happened, and drooped slightly. Either way, he didn't know how to answer that question. He was sad, indeed, but this just didn't seem right for an answer. 'Mixed feelings' would not only be an awful thing to say, but it didn't exactly describe the situation, either. He simply shrugged and ran a hand through his hair.

"Awful," He started hesitantly. "But I'll move on...I think."

He realised what the situation was. He was broken, and it has been like that for a while, and while Cynthia's death had made it worse, he had _expected_ it. It was just a way too familiar hit at his fragile heart. Nothing new, nothing new, nothing new...

"I know you, Henry." He told him. "I know when you're upset. If you're upset, you always subconsciously seek comfort, even though you deny it. I highly doubt it that you'd call me on any other day, just like that. I just know you wouldn't. Even if I didn't know about the accident, I would've noticed. The way you react, the way you speak. It's a bit obvious, at least to me, you know."

Henry didn't want to hear that, but knew he was right. He just wanted, he just needed small talk, but Harry was, once again, straightforward, and that just didn't seem to change. His expression looked like he was going to break down, and Harry patiently waited for it. Nothing happened, he just stared at him, as if waiting for him to continue, even though both of them knew he had nothing more to say to that. Henry simply looked away at some point and downed his drink at once. His friend sighed, then scratched the back of his neck as he tried to start another conversation, but just didn't succeed in it.

More people eventually came in, the chatter becoming louder and louder as more old friends reunited. Old, but happy friends, laughing and sharing everything, and Henry could understand most of what they said, and even smiled at some point when one of them started talking about his awful cooking skills and his wife's attempts to teach him. Harry, noticing that, began talking about his daily life, quickly grabbing the other's interest.

"Ey, Laurie, I want another Cherry Bomb!" They heard at some point, and turned around to see the bartender shooting glares.

"Call me that once again, and I'll force you to dig your own grave," She hissed. "Then you're going inside. It's Laura, dumbass, remember that."

Almost everyone laughed at that, and so did the two of them. "Everybody knows her. She's always like that," Harry commented with a grin. "But I'd be pissed if someone called me that, too. Poor girl. Heard she's having problems with her parents."

Despite how pleasant the conversation was, Henry got up, remembering he had to work tomorrow. "I'm afraid I have to go."

"You do that," The other mumbled. They did not exchange any more words as Henry paid for the drinks and walked out. The brunet shuddered, as it was getting colder than usual, and rubbed his hands as he reached the vehicle - only to spot something with the corner of his eye, and hesitantly turn around. His eyes widened at the sight.


End file.
